The Day Before Valentine's
by Prose Vanity
Summary: Natsume and Ruka find themselves in trouble against their hormonally-charged pregnant wives... because of the dishes. "This is your fault." "And this is why we're best friends, Ruka."
1. Out

**Ashy-note **Happy Valentine's Day, everybody! This one was inspired by a sudden stroke of inspiration that involved a Cellphone, the internet, and a random lunch date fic. Consider it a sequel to _Welcome Home, _I really don't mind, although it wasn't really planned like that in the first place. This is, after all, a Valentine's gift to all of you. (:

Also, I would like to incorporate (and promote) November Romeo's _Natsume Nullified_, and I have no right whatsoever to claim that Natsume's high tolerance for alcohol is an original idea. I got it from the aforementioned story's fifth chapter, entitled _Five Drunks and Me._ Part of Ruka's narration about his alcohol tolerance was also inspired by the story.

Set at twenty-eight years old, two months after _Welcome Home_, on the 13th of February, in Ruka's point of view. (_WH _was set December.)

_Specially dedicated to Stalker, Maria, Nana, Jaz-nee, and Baby Andrea—the people I love inside this fandom. Really. No joke. Srsly._

-/-

**The Day Before Valentine's**

one  
**Out**

I rarely get to see Natsume as flustered as he is now, and I must say, I'm driving myself crazy thinking of what could possibly be the reason for this suddenly aggravated and irritable man who was standing in front of his employees in a flaring bad mood.

After the company had a successful and completely, impossibly rocket launch, all the employees of Natsume Hyuuga knew him to be a nice, dedicated, and albeit a little isolated a very approachable boss.

Things were bound to get interesting every once in a while.

"Kagure, get off your ass and stop flirting with Sui and just do your job. I'm not paying you to be such a lazy wimp. And everyone, I want reports of the Innovations, Inc. partial financial statements when I come out of my office, you hear me? Amane, call Kitsuneme, tell him I want to see him in my office later this evening for a serious talk about his _son_ driving my daughter insane and tell him I know he taught the little devil himself, and tell Anna to send Mikan chocolates and confectioner's sugars and cookies and cake for the twins."

A sound of laughter spiked the fire caster's temper and he turned with slanted eyes to a man in the corner talking to Amanatsu (now called Sui) who looked… scared.

Natsume's voice was deadly, ice cold, and sharp. "Kagure. One more warning and I swear to the hairs of your chin I will _fire_ you. Literally or speaking as your boss."

It was to everyone's knowledge that Natsume Hyuuga was a strong Fire Alice. It was natural for the poor subject of his screaming to immediately jump into action. But me? I wanted to laugh out loud, if not for the respect I felt for the man.

Because seriously—"_I swear to the hairs of your chin," _he said! Did he really just say that?

I had to stifle the really, _really_ overwhelming urge to burst out in a fit of laughter.

Mikan was obviously rubbing off his nature.

He left his subordinates in a state of shock, and I took time to speak out loud to everyone. They didn't know Natsume yet, after all. I'd give them a hint. "We all have those days."

They all sighed and smiled at me while I left to follow the irate man. After eighteen years of keeping him company, I know just when something's up. And I know Natsume inside-out, practically, so I can tell the basic reason for this lashing out, the _only_ reason for it in the first place.

Something happened to him and _the wife, _as he put it.

And naturally, being the stubborn mule that Mikan was, she is—as far as I can tell with Natsume's mood—refusing _completely_ at the poor guy's attempts for making up. I bet all those orders to Amane were all part of the peace offering (except for the part about Kitsuneme, I really wonder what that clown made his son do to little Suki to get Natsume go protective-daddy).

He slammed the door right after I had slipped in, just in time before the oak panels could ram me in the face.

He picked up the phone and began dialing furiously, occasionally swearing under his breath, acting like I'm completely invisible. Quietly (although I know that even if I shouted he still wouldn't hear me) I looked at the features of the boy-turned-man and watched his every move, his every gaze, with medical precision.

Being a veterinarian with a pre-med in psychology never felt as useful and entertaining to me as when I have to figure out when Natsume's all riled up.

The line, it seemed, was answered by a machine. He spoke through a gritted voice, "Mikan, honey, look, I know you're there so answer the damn phone, _please_, I need to talk to you. Can't you just keep your mule head out of the way and listen?"

I had to wince—those aren't anger-pacifying words…

I heard the screams emanating from his phone, catching words that sounded like "bastard" and "unhelpful" and "children" and a few others I think I should not have heard… private, personal, _married life_ stuff.

Oh, heavens, this man is hopelessly under command.

I only needed the three signs of this being a wife problem, and when I chuckled in that corner there it was, the majestic first indication of Natsume Hyuuga's sign number one: failure to recognize his surroundings, his sudden loss of control over every sensory nerve. If he were in charge of himself he would've already kicked me out of his office for laughing my ass off at his predicament.

Oh, yes. Natsume Hyuuga, bad boy extraordinaire, notorious, infamous, the _Black Cat_ from nearly ten years ago, was so, so whipped.

Whipped by Sunshine herself, the very personification of the non-existent hopeful, loving, joyful, peaceful, cat-whipping goddess of Alice Academy mythology: Mikan Sakura-Hyuuga.

His wife. Who, as of the moment, was his Devil's Advocate.

I love seeing them all mommy-daddy-husband-wife.

The phone made a loud tapping noise that signaled the end of their one-sided shouting match—I'm ever so thankful my wife creates impact-resistant phones, else the poor gadget would have fallen apart already in Natsume's hands. I watched my best friend as he rubbed the bridge of his bone-straight nose and sighed deeply when his red eyes found me, slightly in surprise as though realizing I was there for the first time today (when in fact I had been with him since an hour ago).

He walked over to his desk and rummaged in his drawer for his petty cash wallet and pointedly asked me the same question he has instinctively asked ever since he'd gotten married, mostly during times when he'd find himself in a sticky situation with the wife.

"You in for a drink?"

Bingo.

Sign number two: Alcohol.

:|:

The girl in the corner of the bar was throwing us hopeful and wondering glances.

It takes some getting used to, this new-found fame of ours. I knew being Natsume's best friend meant the limelight was going to be reflecting on you too—I'd felt that since the Academy days—but this was just nothing compared to those childhood days, when the worst a girl could do to you was kiss you or chase after you like a rampant baboon. Because when you're the best friend of the business-world's shocking economic and tactical genius, the man who entered the game and played it for a short but definitely explosive five years then left in early retirement and _then_ mysteriously resurfaced with a vengeance that wiped out every other competitor in a smooth six months' span, and you're just starting to make a name in the world of medicine yourself while married to the CEO of the world's leading technological empire, well… the spotlight was bound to shine on you too.

There were perks, like easy maneuvers through transactions, wide choices for sponsors and materials and all, but the lows outweighed the highs.

Like now.

The girl stood up from her seat and approached us both, at the bar counter, with Natsume gripping his champagne glass and glaring daggers at the approaching female specimen. She just kept walking on. It was either she didn't notice or she didn't care; after all, Natsume's cold exterior wasn't unknown to the world.

When she was within earshot, her mouth opened as if in speech, though I barely heard a word, busy as I was absorbing the sudden drop of temperature in the club. The glass in Natsume's hand was beginning to fog. My water was starting to freeze.

His Alice. His Alice was starting to manifest itself clearly as the people began complaining about the cold—I felt it myself, in the frosty bite to my skin. Clearly his powers were much, much more dangerous now that they've matured.

After we left the Academy and experienced more of the world we'd managed to grow along with our Alices in small ways. Me, for one, I had learned how to affect people with my Alice, although the effect wasn't as immediate and as strong as in other animals, like Narumi's could (Hotaru says it's because my Alice was Animal Pheromones and as humans were animals, too, I'm able to do the same, unlike Sensei). Hotaru had grown, too. Her Alice can now incorporate personal specifications to the things she create, and she could infuse supernatural characteristics to her raw materials and making stuff like flame-resistant steel and non-fragile glass (both of which she realized after Natsume requested her to create a custom-built cellular phone for his private line). Even Mikan could now project her Nullifying Alice, though her stealing and insertion Alice never morphed into anything else.

And Natsume worked out the inverting of his powers—hot to cold and back. He could suck in the heat from his surroundings and turn everything ice-cold, but unlike Ibaragi-san, whose Alice allowed her to do things with ice, that was as far as Natsume could go. He could only make things colder and hotter.

Which explains why the water in the glass I held was now ice.

And there goes sign number three: loss of Alice control.

Doubts are all gone, all right. This was definitely the wife. And on the eve of Valentine's, I completely understand his staid composure. After all, I wouldn't like it if I was waging a war against my wife just before the day of hearts.

This might get out of hand; this needs to stop, he needs to go home and fix everything. "Natsume, let's go."

The girl started shivering. Serves her right, wearing such skimpy clothes…

:|:

"What happened to Suki?"

He grunted in the passenger seat as I drove him home, a good fifty minutes away from the city. He wasn't drunk, exactly, as all he'd drunk was champagne and he had high tolerance for alcohol (as we all know, and as I'd love to forget for the rest of my existence), but at least he was less blast-prone as a while ago.

The rain had begun to fall. It was eight in the evening and the sun was gone. Natsume had just finished talking calmly to Amane to cancel the meeting with Kitsuneme (although strictly ordering that he do so once the man was inside the office building, just to irk off the guy), and his earlier words crossed my mind.

Natsume scowled, but afterwards contentment and a weird radiating aura of amusement exuded from him. "Kitsuneme's boy called her _strawberry print_."

Oh, god.

Keeping a laugh wasn't possible, and it was better because he laughed with me.

"So that's how you knew Kitsuneme taught him that!"

"Naturally. No other man on earth would have taught his child such blasphemy at six years old."

"Speak for yourself, you were the pervert at ten."

"Yeah, well, six is a lot younger than ten, and I already knew about the world. Kitsuneme's son knows nothing yet, partly because his father—poor kid—is too much of a goof. Thank goodness the kid's mom's Nonoko; at least he's not going to inherit his father's brains."

I laughed again; the rain was falling harder now and Natsume's expression turned into something softer. "And what did little Suki do?"

He smirked. "She screamed. Just like her idiot of a mother."

I laughed lightly and went on. "Right. Her idiot of a mother, the only person who can make your very skin crawl with apprehension and twist you into knots of anger and frustration."

His expression momentarily turned blank, and when he faced me I only shot him the "spit it out" look_._

Natsume just sighed. _"Ruka…"_

"What is _wrong_ with you?"

Natsume's eyes flashed in defense. "What do you mean, what wrong with me?"

"Oh, shut up. You're a bad actor. It is _perfectly_ obvious something's up between you and her."

He grunted. I bit my lip, trying hard not to laugh and crash ourselves into a tree. "I'm waiting."

"Fine," he mumbled, burying his face in his palms. The tension that suddenly sprang from his body coiled itself up and around me; maybe it really _was_ a serious thing they argued about. "The wife's mad."

I kept throwing anxious glances at my immobile friend and waited for his answer. His eyes gave him away. He was clearly very much annoyed. It was another indication I had learned to live with.

Those eyes could only mean one thing: what happened was yet another struggle completely unfounded and unparallel with logic and reason. Simply enough, it meant to say, _Hold off your laughter because this is a ridiculous thing—again, as usual._

And of course, he didn't fail to disappoint.

"I forgot to do the dishes this morning."

I stepped on the brakes roughly and the car tires screeched, but it was drowned out by the sound of my laughter.

Dishes—they're arguing over _dishes_. "You are in a war with her because you forgot to do the _dishes_?"

"Yes, and she says it's being completely irresponsible, and I don't even know what's wrong with that! It isn't like Suki and Hana don't know how to do stuff like that yet. And besides, I didn't _forget _to do the damn dishes, I just _didn't_. There's a difference."

He sighed and buried his face in his palms again. They laughter hadn't drowned out of me yet. Gods be good, these Hyuugas are so hilarious.

Still hung over from mirth, I restarted the car and in no time we were back to driving along the wet road, my speedometer slowly inching towards one-fifty. We were still a good twenty minutes away; still enough time to pester him with more questions. "And why didn't you do the dishes?"

He snorted, annoyed at my persistence. "Because I burned them."

My eyebrows reflexively knotted. This man has serious issues. "You—you _what_? Burned them? Why?"

"Well don't you sound like a housewife."

I ignored the jibe. "_Why_ did you burn them?"

"Because I wanted to get it out of the way as quickly as possible. I told you, I didn't _forget_. I just _didn't_. It was the easiest way out."

Just then I remembered something that struck my anxiety chords really hard. "Which set of plates did you burn?"

"The black ones."

"With the gold outlines?"

"Yes."

"And the sakura petals?"

"Yes."

_Oh, no… Oh no, oh no, oh no…_

"Those were Hotaru's gift."

Natsume froze in his seat and I saw him wince at my words. "Shit."

I nodded, blinking fast. "Double shit."

"She's probably called your wife by now."

"They're probably wanting to murder you."

"And you."

"And me—sometimes I hate that you're my best friend, you know?"

"Well, we're in this together, mate. Two musketeers."

"Musketeers your face. Now we'd have to fight off two hormonal women."

I imagined the look on Hotaru's face once she finds out. Or _after_ she found out, more like. "This is really deep shit, Natsume."

He laughed then fell silent. "You can say that again. Deep, _deep_ shit. Madhouse. We're about to be screwed."

"Murdered, at most."

"Whipped by the wives."

"Whipped by the _pregnant_ wives."

He winced. "Forgot about that part."

"Obviously, else you would never have dared to do that little stunt this morning."

"Don't remind me, Ruka."

"This is your fault."

"And this is why you're my best friend, Ruka. You're going down with me."

"Ah, shoot yourself."

And then another stretch of silence where we both contemplated. The word was out of our mouths at the same time.

"Damn."

We were silent all the way home, thinking deeply about the depths of danger in which we were in, and when I came to a stop right outside their door, there stood two women, both infuriated, both clearly angry, on the very eve of Valentine's day.

Two pairs of eyes met ours and I swallowed.

This was not a nice eve for the day of love and happiness and fluff.

"Hyuuga. Nogi."

I had to swallow and sigh.

"Explain to me the fairy tale of the ashen porcelain fifty-thousand dollar plates."

Oh, _shit_.

I swear Natsume said the same thing in his mind.

* * *

_HAH! This is a two-shot, don't worry. One's for Valentine's eve, the next for tomorrow on Valentine's Day. (:_

**EDIT, 09 JULY 2012: **The original upload of this story was deleted, apparently because of "inappropriate content/summary" and all that, so here I am posting it again, this time hopefully no more violations.

_~Ash._


	2. Whipped

**Ashy-note **This one isn't as hilarious as the first chap, honestly. So feel free to masticate my work; you're very welcome to do such an atrocious thing. After all, I'm very masochistic.

(:

-/-

**The Day Before Valentine's**

two  
**Whipped**

Natsume flipped his phone shut and sighed, the shadow of a grin lingering on his lips. He flashed his eyes at me and I took a long, miserable swig off the shot glass I held in my shaky hands.

"Koko just called, said he'd be joining us here."

I lifted the glass from my lips in surprise. Koko was just like us, running to the nearest corner pub for comfort when some things aren't right with him and Nonoko—so _why_ would he come running to here on Valentine's afternoon? It was general knowledge that they're one strong couple…

Tch. Yeah, right.

Valentine's.

Huh.

What a load of rubbish.

Complete, _utter_ rubbish.

Day of hearts and love, _pssssh. _

_Love my _ass_._

I don't believe it. I really can_not_ believe my situation. It's Valentine's Day and instead of enjoying a nice afternoon in preparation for an even nicer dinner with Hotaru, I'm here with Natsume at Joe's, our local, downing bottles of hard liquor and drowning in misery.

Sometimes being his best friend took away a great deal of my pride and dignity and wife-points…

"How is it that your _every_ problem is mine too?" I asked him in sheer annoyance at my situation; truth be told it was only _him_ who's supposed to be in trouble. How come I had to be involved as well?

Heavens, I didn't burn the fifty-thousand-dollar plates, for crying out loud! The best I could have done was to send little rabbits and dinosaurs and elephants after it!

"It's called transitive property, Ruka," he said, swilling the remaining vodka in his glass and staring at it as if waiting for the liquid to jump into his throat. "Your wife is my wife's best friend, and my wife's best friend's husband is my best friend. So it follows logically that when my wife is mad at me, my best friend's wife, who is the best friend of _my_ wife, would naturally get mad at me as well. It's a species thing, about women, you know."

My head swirled; what the hell did he just say?

Man, the drinks must be getting to me. "Could you simplify that a bit?"

"Too slow, Ruka," he jibed at me. "Jinno's gonna kill you for sure if he were here, you haven't been listening to his lectures."

"Oh, shut up, just tell me." I rolled my eyes, and then I felt my ears pop and my head roll over along with the sudden somersault of my stomach. Oh, _yes_. Alcohol alert.

Great. So now I'm drunk, at four in the afternoon, on Valentine's day, with my best friend beside me still unaffected by the four or five vodka bottles we'd drowned already.

Sounds a little too familiar, except now we aren't trying anything _stupid_.

I pointed a finger at him, mumbling drowsily in French—it was how we went along, when we had to crack at each other for the other one's stupidity; we spoke in French. Sometimes Latin. Depends on the mood, really. But as it's a day of love and all that crap (forgive me, I'm just a little bitter from last night) I chose French.

"God, I wonder how I can stand you, stupid, idiotic best friend."

He bit back sharply. "Oh, just shut up, won't you?"

"No. I will _not_ shut up, you dolt."

He rolled his eyes. "You'd make for the perfect housewife. In fact, you'd be a good substitute for Mikan."

"You'd make an even better Hotaru."

"We'd probably get along better than with them, anyway."

"Might as well get married, the two of us."

"Damn right we should."

I snorted; he was out of it again, because on any other day he would never have given assent to the thought of us marrying (and neither would I). "What are you waiting for? Take me away, Prince Charming, let's get married and have pretty little rabbits for children."

He looked disgusted by my words and looked at me like I was a Picasso artwork inside a Da Vinci gallery. "What?" I raised my eyebrows in defiance. "You're exactly like Hotaru, I can already imagine you, just wear blue contacts to make your eyes turn violet, and lose the long hair. You've got earrings, they'll do, and minus the black mailing part, I can just imagine you being my wife."

His eyebrows clearly said _'What the hell, Ruka?' _He threw me a nasty comeback. "And I can _perfectly _imagine _you_ wearing polka-dots or strawberry briefs. _Briefs, _not boxers. _Briefs_."

What the _heck? _"You—you—!"

He snickered; this man is just… grr!

"That was a low blow, Natsume. Below-the-soles-_low_ blow."

"Suit yourself, Bunny boy."

Try me, Hyuuga. "Right back at you, Sore Eyes."

A small silence sprung up between us where we looked at each other, me thinking about the stupid thing I just let slip, him probably processing how to react at those ridiculous slandering words that didn't quite do the job well.

He ended up with a raucous bout of laughter, sending me to the depths of fury and red cheeks and the willingness to crawl into a cave and die.

I'm pathetic.

I kept silent until I saw someone drop beside me and looked to see a defeated Koko who stared at us through weary eyes.

_What happened to you?_

He muffled his groan and covered his ears. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"Dude, what is your problem?" I asked, wondering at this stupid response to my unspoken question.

"Heavens, stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it, _STOP IT!_" His voice grew into a scream and Natsume and I had to jump out of our seats and clamp our hands over his mouth to shut him up. Dragging him outside we heard the barman, our good friend the Scottish ole Joe, explain to the scandalized customers in his best non-Scottish accent the reason for our behavior.

It was accurate enough, but couldn't he have stated it in a less degrading way?

"Don't worry, lads and lassies, those three are just men damned to the depths of whip-hood with them arses ripped off therr backsides by 'em wives."

I swear I'll get him and his Scottish tongue for that, if only I wasn't trying hard to grip a screaming Koko.

We dropped him to the side of the street right outside the bar and he sighed.

Natsume's temper flared. "What the _hell_ happened to you, you dunce?"

"What?" Koko looked around at us innocently; I swear I want to punch him in the face hard. "I just screamed."

"Yeah, you _just_ screamed," I riposted sarcastically. "You _just_ screamed and your voice only reached a distance of—oh, I don't know, maybe a few or more than fifty kilometers in radius? By all means, continue shouting your ass off, see if we care when a policeman ties you up and sends you to the local asylum."

He grimaced at me as Natsume sat down an abandoned old tire and scowled at the mid reader.

"Better that than have a hysterical wife chucking you out the house you bought yourself while brandishing a broomstick and yelling like a banshee," he garbled, looking at the ground irritably.

"Had a bad day with the wife, too, huh?" Natsume said from the side.

"Pretty much."

"Join the club, Koko. We could start a fellowship, here. The Whipped-Man's Society."

"Yeah, definitely whipped," said Koko.

"What's your legal case file?" I asked of the mind reader. He snorted.

"Stealing Sumire's low-fat blueberry cupcakes from the fridge. You know, PMS and all that female rubbish that just twists my brain into thousands of tiny little knots."

I just smirked. "You think _you've_ got it bad?"

"Oh, well, no. Something must have happened for you to admit you're whipped, Natsume. Hah, what's up with you two, then? What feat of Mikan Sakura's and Hotaru Imai's could have driven you to the realms of insanity?"

"Basically _everything_ those two demented women do can drives us to our limits," Natsume said simply.

"Oh, what's the special event, then?"

"Oh, don't ask," I said to my hands, glaring at the crisscrossed lines on my palms. If only I could have read my fortune I would never have come with Natsume yesterday…

Right after we had come out the car with both our wives standing in the doorway looking like hell themselves, I knew it wasn't going to be easy on us, and I left Natsume's cottage home right on time, just as soon as I heard Mikan's steadily amplifying yell. Worried as I was about him, I knew _my_ hell was far worse than his. At least Mikan isn't a world-renowned blackmailer with Satan's genes implanted into her nervous system.

I drove home with my wife exuding this terrible aura of hostility that it only needed a few more provocation for her to finally lose herself and kill me, and trying to be smart for once in my life I didn't do anything else rather than stay quiet.

And I did that, and she did the same, and we practically never talked until today, even when Natsume asked me out for a drink again.

Cold, cold Valentine's…

Koko snorted and looked at Natsume incredulously; evidently he had been reading the fire caster's mind. "What? She _refused_ to kiss you? You tried kissing her while she was flaming mad? Oh, damn, Natsume, not everything can be solved through kissing, you kiss monster…"

Natsume shot him one of the famous death glares of the Black Cat, but Koko being Koko, he ignored it like it was just a fly buzzing around and kept talking insults at the man, whose face grew steadily paler and paler. "You know, you really haven't got this sort of finesse over women, Natsume, it's like you're good at everything and yet with women, you're a good-for-nothing wacko loser."

Uh-oh.

If there's one thing I had learned about Alpha males from National Geographic Channel, it was that you should never, _never_ provoke the ego of the alphas, else you're in for a big fight.

I smelled burning denim and turned to see Koko putting out the fire that had started on his pants, and when the fire had gone out, there was nothing left, except a triumphant Natsume and a me who had to keep shaking to control my laughter from attracting other people to what would probably be the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to a man.

Of course, I failed, and soon I had a dozen or so afternoon drinkers yapping themselves off at poor Koko who had to hide behind a bush to hide his polka-dotted briefs.

"Say, Natsume, what d'you think about marrying Koko instead?"

"Never," he said bluntly, although his lips were already twitching.

The fire caster bit his lip to keep himself from cackling with all the rest, but when Koko replied to his thoughts, he couldn't help it and he burst in a fit of laughter.

"_Urusai, Natsume! _I did _not_ use steal Sumire's cookies because I thought I was getting fat!"

-/-

After Koko's exhibition, nothing much more eventful happened anymore…

Except that it came to the point that we all had to go home.

This is the part I hate the most.

"Remind me why you had to burn the plates again," I said to my best friend while killing time, sitting on the hood of my car and staring up at the darkening sky, wondering how I landed here in the first place.

"Because I am completely insane and I don't think like I should when I'm around that idiot. Can't help it, I've long since been contaminated by her baka germs," he mumbled quietly from beside me; Koko had left us, taking his car and running back to the city to get a fresh pair of pants. Natsume burned them all completely, saying "Consider it revenge for my little Suki."

I _swear_ I'll never let my son touch Suki until he's of age and Natsume can no longer interfere with their private issues.

"You know you'll have to literally pay for those plates, right? And she wasn't kidding when she said it cost fifty thousand," I said to him, leaning on the windshield and feeling the cold air hit my face. Dollar signs flashed behind my eyelids.

Holy crap, I'm becoming a money-maniac like my wife!

"Right. Fifty thousand's no big deal. I'm more worried about finding replacements for them; it's an original Imai invention, so it won't be easy."

"You're forgetting this is _my_ wife we're talking about, Natsume," I told him, looking at him from my peripheral vision. "Fifty thousand usually stands for five months of company bankruptcy."

For a moment I thought I saw a sliver of fear and shock in his eyes, but he recovered. "She'll get over it."

Yeah. I hope.

"Sorry for this, Ruka," he said from out of the blue, red eyes tacked to the shining moon. "Instead of celebrating with your Hitler girlfriend you're here staying with me and sinking in Valentine's boo-hoo."

I sniffed. "You're acting like we're just acquaintances, you idiot. Of course I'd be here; you said it yourself, it's transitive. Although a little unfortunate sometimes, really."

He let slip a snort of laughter. "All day we'd been acting like cowards too scared to face the wives. Why don't we just go home now?"

"You say that like it's an easy thing."

He raised an eyebrow and looked at me as if challenging my statement. "You're not the one coming home to an impatient blabber mouth who'll just yap at you for the better part of all night about how you left her alone for the entire day."

I laughed sourly. "And _you're_ not the one who is going to face a murderous wife who is the sister of Hitler and the mother of demons herself."

"Figures. No wonder Youichi likes her."

"Yeah."

We both sighed and then Natsume turned to me. "Call me later."

I snickered at his words. "You know, if I were a woman I would have thought you're checking me out," I said, teasingly kicking him and epically failing to do so and ending up falling on my backside in front of my car face down.

His comeback was quick and, as usual, good. Sometimes I wonder why luck and destiny seemed to always side with him. Maybe he's charmed those witches into liking him, too. "And if I were a woman, Ruka, I would have thought you're the lamest man on the planet. Pity, though, you snagged cement for your wife."

I could only smile behind the hidden meaning of those words.

That jerk.

_Let's see who gets it worse when we get home._

I got a feeling we both will. But I never really expected how different things were going to be this Valentine's.

-/-

"Where have you been? Never mind, don't answer the question. Don't get out, we're going somewhere."

Sometimes Hotaru freaked me out, the way she always manages to sneak in like that. She's even worse than Natsume, honestly, and I think Natsume was so right when he said Hotaru should have been in Dangerous Abilities. She would have stomped all over Natsume's Number One title quite easily, without even breaking a single little bead of sweat.

I was barely out of my car when I heard her voice through the open window of the passenger's seat and heard the small thump that meant the door was opened. In came my wife, wearing jeans and a loose shirt—one of mine, probably—with her six-month belly sticking out.

I reached out tentatively for the little guy stuck inside his Mama's tummy. Funny, Hotaru didn't do anything in objection to my action. I pushed my luck a little further and placed both hands on the hard balloon of a stomach that was my wife's.

"Hey there, little guy," I said softly to the small mound, rubbing it in the part where I knew the feet to be. "Papa's here. Sorry I've been gone all day, your Uncle Natsume was just being a big scaredy-cat and he had to ask me to come because he was such a coward."

I paused to twine my fingers with Hotaru's, whose hands were also rubbing gently at her tummy. She didn't object, again. "Your poor Mommy had to put up with you alone today. You tell her I'm sorry for me, okay? She wouldn't talk to me properly, you see. And tell her I love her, okay, little guy? Would you do that for Daddy, please?"

A small kick brought an exhilarated smile to my face, and I saw Hotaru smile at the gesture from the kid, too. I drew back, still amazed, and without preamble my wife leaned in to kiss me fiercely, full on the lips, before I even had time to recollect myself from my son's feedback. It's as if he was listening!

My thoughts were rewired from my son to my wife, whose kiss was urgent, full of longing. It was a different person, this girl—no, woman—that I was kissing. She was so, so much more than the sadistic blackmailing woman everyone knew her to be. She was Hotaru Imai, the gentlest lady known to mankind, the smartest woman in the business today.

She becomes the girl I fell in love with, the woman I married… she becomes my wife.

She becomes me, I become her.

After she broke off, though, my head was keeping company an angry red bruise and a small patch of deformed skull, with my wife theatrically blowing imaginary smoke from her portable baka gun.

Sometimes this woman is so impossible.

-/-

This was unexpected.

And scary.

Because when my wife and my best friend's wife connive and we see them smiling side by side looking at us like we're a particularly scrumptious meal for the lions, it never really means anything good.

You see, much as Hotaru was brilliant, Mikan was more… ah…

_Vengeful._

"Mikan? Would you mind explaining why we're at the mall, staring at polka-dotted men's briefs?"

Hotaru smiled evilly.

"Damn this isn't good," Natsume said beside me. "Whenever my wife and your wife smile like that, I don't think we'll ever make it out alive."

I had to agree, this isn't funny… "You are absolutely correct."

Just then my phone rang and I excused myself from the mischievous pair and my wary best friend. It was Koko.

And he was _laughing_. Hard.

"Koko? What's up?"

"_Haha! Ruka, let me guess where you and Natsume are, you're at the mall, aren't you? _Hahaha—" a huge dramatic pause, before a loud, unctuous, over-the-top "—**HAH**!_"_

My brows furrowed and when Natsume approached me, I put Koko on low-volume speakerphones. What the devil is happening?

"Koko, what's going on?" Natsume said.

"_Haha! Just a few words, Natsume, my friend, and that is, any minute now you'll seriously be regretting burning my pants this afternoon!"_

"Wait, Koko—what?"

"_Oh well, revenge is sweet, fellows. Good bye!"_

"Wait, Koko—!"

"Yome—"

And then a dead phone line.

When we faced the wives, they were each holding what seemed to be a voice-activated remote control. At the same time, they spoke through the mic these exact same words: _"My husband needs to shop for fifty polka-dotted briefs in shades of pink, red, yellow, and neon green."_

So now I get what the kiss was for, and without another minutes' worth of hesitation, Natsume and I were suddenly jerked from the navel and we did as we were told.

Sometimes I damn my wife's inventions, because this brain-control thing isn't working to my advantage. At all.

"Happy Valentine's Day, boys," my wife said to us right before they left us in the briefs department laden with colorful polka-dotted underwear.

* * *

Thanks for reading, guys! And really, I'm grateful to those who added this to their favorites and all, and I'm so, so sorry for the delay in updates (stupid internet's a little bitter of Valentine's day. Really.)

**EDIT, 09 JULY 2012: **The original upload of this story was deleted, apparently because of "inappropriate content/summary" and all that, so here I am posting it again, this time hopefully no more violations.

_~Ash._

* * *

**Three months later (just an update)**

We later found it that all five women (Nonoko, Anna, Sumire, Hotaru, and Mikan) had already conspired, just before they all got married, to make us shop fifty pieces of embarrassing underwear for every mistake we made.

We men (Yuu, Koko, Mochu, Natsume, and me), on the other hand, had made it a habit to measure who's got the most number of polka-dotted prints.

The number one spot never changed.

It was always _Natsume_, of course.

"You just fit perfectly together, Natsume, you and Mikan… both polka-dotted. _You know_."

Koko had never stopped laughing ever since that Valentine's day.


End file.
